


Fire and Ice

by S_G_M



Category: Chicago Fire, Supernatural
Genre: Arson, Chicago, Crime, F/M, Firemen, Fires, Firetruck, Friendship, Gen, Hunting, Impala, Love, Marriage, Old Friends, Paranormal, Spirit - Freeform, The Past, change, ghost - Freeform, haunted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2582801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_G_M/pseuds/S_G_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, the fires around Chicago have been burning cold, and Christopher Herrmann has an idea as to why.  Being an ex-hunter, his instincts point to it all being of the supernatural.  Unable to tackle this on his own, he brings in some old friends, the Winchester boys, for a bit of back up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Ice

There had been a string of peculiar fires occurring over the past few weeks.

They had been deemed as suspicious, as there was no possible way that a single one of them could have been accidental.

But, no hint of evidence could prove otherwise.

Christopher Herrmann had an idea as to whom, or rather,  _what_  was behind them, though he knew better than to speak his mind.

His hunches often turned out to be right, but there weren’t too many people who would take him seriously on this one.

Besides, it would be smarter to keep this sort of thing to himself.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he was a very busy man, and that his entire life could be turned upside down should the facts come to light, Herrmann would have worked on pursuing his hunch.

 

 

At Firehouse 51, half of the crew sat in the common area, watching a television sitcom and generally taking a break after coming back from the most recent in the string of bizarre fires.

Each of them knew that there was something very off about them; for one, the flames hadn’t burned nearly as hot as they should have.

On the contrary, their thermal sensors had indicated that the number was far lower than it should have been in reality.  In fact, the temperature ran cold, which of course, was impossible.

And, yet, what had been chalked up to as an ‘equipment malfunction’ was certainly the opposite.

They had felt the cold, though they saw the flames flickering intensely before them.

It had seemed quite impossible, though they each knew that it was the truth.

It was difficult to know how to react to something so strange.

Some of them acted as though absolutely nothing was wrong, while others made jokes to lighten the mood and mask their unease, while still others were withdrawn.

It wasn’t just the temperature, they had each felt as though they were being watched incredibly closely.

It was a sense of utter foreboding, a feeling of incredible hopelessness that shrouded each of them undeniably as they entered each site.

This time, Mouch had been catapulted into a blazing wall, and with the sheer force he had sailed through the air with, it had seemed at first as though he would die.

Thankfully, Mouch had survived.

In fact, other than some deep bruising and a sprained neck, he was perfectly fine.

He would be off-duty for at least a week, maybe two, until he had healed.

None of them, except for Herrmann, had any notion as to what had caused the accident to happen.

 

Shay fiddled with her hands, as she leaned over with her elbows on her knees.

“I’ve been thinking…”  She began, and a few of the crew looked over to her, at which point words failed her.

“About what?”  Otis asked, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“Well,”  Shay started again, looking awkward.  “It’s just that these fires…  It’s almost as if they’re, I don’t know, haunted.”

The rest of the people in the common room watched her, some giving her looks of outright disbelief.

“Haunted?”  Peter Mills spoke up thickly, giving her a blank look with his dull eyes.

“Uh, yeah.”  She told him, clearing her throat and feeling stupid as she tucked her loose hair behind her ears.

Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

Casey and Dawson exchanged looks.

Everyone had been having a rough time with these fires, and maybe Shay just couldn’t handle it.

“Shay, are you feeling all right?”  Casey asked gently, a worried look on his face.

Shay blinked.

“Of course, I’m fine!”  She said a little defensively.  “I was just saying, that’s all.”

Cruz looked thoughtful.

“Actually, you might be onto something.”  He spoke up, trying to make her feel better.

He had a cousin, Clara, who was a hunter.

She had shown him first-hand what sort of creatures were out there, and how dangerous they could be.

He’d even met a few other hunters, and they’d talked shop with him.

Shay gave him a small smile.

“You think so?”  She asked, feeling a touch less like an idiot.

He nodded kindly, as Severide scoffed.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no such thing as monsters.”  He said firmly.  “I know it’s been a bit weird lately, but I’m sure there’s a normal explanation for it all.”

Shay gave a small sigh.

“I’m, uh, I’m just going to go lie down for a bit.”  She told them, before heading off to the barracks.

 

 

 

It was during the tail end of his shift that Herrmann did a bit of reminiscing.

These fires had stirred up some old memories that he’d pushed to the back of his mind; memories that were from before he’d become a firefighter, before he’d met anyone that was currently in his life.

It seemed like far longer than it had been since he could call himself a hunter.

He’d spent his later teens learning the tricks of the trade, fancying himself a natural expert despite having little experience.

But, he’d been young and impetuous.

Bobby Singer had taught him most of what he knew about being a hunter, and had gone on many, many trips with him.

Herrmann had spent years learning from this man, and had even helped teach the young Sam and Dean Winchester a thing or two.

He’d revelled in that way of life, and it had been hard to give up.

But, when he’d met the girl of his dreams while in Chicago to slay some murderous pixies, he knew that he would have to choose; hunting or the love of his life.

After wrestling with the decision for some time, he’d inevitably chosen Cindy, whom he'd married and had numerous children with.

Once in a while, he felt the urge to go on a hunting trip, to triumph and conquer against evil, to feel that rush as he did what he just had to do.

He never did act on it, but he couldn’t help feeling as he did.

And, despite having the opportunity to chase after this paranormal entity, he just couldn’t.

There was far too much at risk.

His family’s safety and privacy; everything could be put in jeopardy if things went wrong.

Herrmann just couldn’t do it.

He decided that the best course of action would be to call someone from his past that he knew he could trust completely.

Since he had kept mainly to himself in those days, with only a couple of exceptions, that left Bobby Singer and the Winchesters.

Considering that two of his old friends were dead, Bobby making three, there were only two people he could talk to about this.

Sam and Dean.

 

 

Sam and Dean Winchester had been in the middle of stomping out a nest of vampires, when Dean’s cell phone began blasting ‘Cherry Pie’.

Sam rolled his eyes, before ganking the head vampire, who let out a choked groan and a burble, before falling heavily to the dusty wooden floorboards.

Dean shrugged, before taking care of three younger vampires at once with one swift move of his left hand, bringing them down with ease.

Within ten minutes, the small but deadly nest was non-existent.

Dean sniffed, and wiped his hands down the back of his jeans, before checking his phone.

The only people who had his number were people that were of some import in one way or another, and that meant that unless it was a wrong number, that whatever needed to be said was significant.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw who it was that had been the missed call.

“What?”  Sam asked, noting the look on Dean’s face.

“Chris, Chris Herrmann.  He just called me.”  Dean told his brother, who nodded.

“Wonder what he wants…”  Sam said, thinking that it had been some time since they’d seen him last.

“No idea.  Maybe he wants to catch up for a beer or something.”  Dean said, hitting the button to call him back.

It rang a few times, before that distinctive voice answered.

“Hey, Dean.”  Herrmann greeted politely, thinking about what to say.

“Yeah, hey.”  Dean said back, leaning walking out of the old two storey house that had served as the vampires’ home.  “So, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you guys, it’s just that there’s been some pretty weird stuff goin’ on up here and I think it’d be right up your alley.”  Herrmann replied, popping a malt candy into his mouth and crunching it satisfyingly.

“What kind of stuff?”  Dean asked, mildly interested.

The sun beamed down onto his skin, warming it nicely from the chill inside the nest.

“There’s been these fires.  Not your ordinary ones, though, they don’t burn hot.”  Herrmann told them, piquing Dean’s curiosity. 

He explained what sort of things had been happening, including Mouch’s incident.

“I get the feeling that we’ve got ourselves a ghost.”  Herrmann concluded.

“I’d say so.  Why aren’t you dealing with it yourself?”  Dean asked inquisitively, thinking that it didn’t make sense.  “You’ve got the know-how, hell, you’re one of the best.”

“Used to be.”  Herrmann reminded him a little wistfully.  “See, the thing is, that I can’t put it to rest without someone taking notice.  That happens, well, news travels fast.”  Herrmann explained, wishing that he could do it himself.  “Besides that, I just don’t have the time.”

Herrmann chose not to add that his wife wouldn't exactly be thrilled if she found out that he was getting into hunting territory again, even if it was only a little.

Dean leaned against Baby’s front bumper, the heat against his butt feeling pretty good.

“Right…  Which firehouse is it you’re at?”  Dean asked him, as Sam took off his bloodied shirt and began using moist towelettes to cleanse his skin as much as he could.

“51”.  Came the reply.

Dean let out a breath. 

“Okay, well, we just finished a case.  Let us rest up overnight and we’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon.”  Dean told Herrmann, who thanked him.

“I’ll be expecting you.”  He said, before ending the call.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“You want to clue me in?”  He asked, not really wanting to take on another case so swiftly.

For the past three months it had been a steady stream of work, and while Sam liked to be kept busy, he had been hoping to be able to just spend a couple of days at the bunker to rest up.

“Apparently, we’ve got a supernatural firebug to deal with in Chicago.”  Dean said.  “Should be simple enough.”

Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

“If it’s so simple, why is he calling us in?  He used to be a legendary hunter, why not take care of it himself?”  He asked, pulling on a clean t-shirt from his duffel bag in the trunk.

“He can’t.  He’s worried that he might end up with unwanted publicity for it.”  Dean answered, thinking that Herrmann was probably right.

“Oh.”  Sam said, before sighing.  “Fine, but after that, I’m out for at least a few days.”

Dean nodded.  “Fair enough.”  He said, and they got into the Impala and headed for town, where they would find a motel and spend the night.

 

 

After a night of resting up, the Winchesters began their trip from Marion County, Indiana, to Chicago.

Originally, Dean had intended to take the morning easy, considering it was only a two hour trip.

He thought they may as well get there early, seeing that Sam didn’t care either way.

 

 

After grabbing a couple of cheap sandwiches for the road, Dean started driving.

There was minimal conversation between the brothers as they travelled down the road, with classic rock coming out of the car speakers.

Things had been a bit strained between the boys lately, with Sam being a bit mistrusting of Dean since he’d recently been turned back from a demon.

He knew that Dean was Dean again, but Sam wondered if there was any sort of lasting effects from his transformations.

He was, even now, a little more aggressive than he’d previously been, and was still drinking more than Sam thought was healthy.

Naturally, Dean had basically told his brother to mind his own business.

 

 

 

Soon after getting into town, Dean found the firehouse easily enough, and had parked the Impala across from it.

They walked up to a young man behind a desk, asking for Herrmann.

“I’m afraid that he’s out on a call.  You can wait if you like, but I don’t know how long it could be before he’s back.”  Mike told them, gesturing to a few grey padded chairs.

The brothers exchanged glances.

“Actually, if you could get him to give me a call when he gets back, that’d be great.”  Dean said, not feeling like waiting around and doing nothing.

Mike shrugged.  “Sure.”  He replied, grabbing a pen and paper and placing them on the desk for Dean to use.  “Just write down your contact information.”

“He knows the number; just tell him Sam and Dean stopped by.”  Dean told him.

“All right, then.”  Mike said, taking the slip of paper back and placing it next to his computer.  “I’ll pass that on.”

With that, the brothers exited the building.

 

 

Meanwhile, 51’s crew was busy working on quenching a full-scale blaze at Amelia Dunne Hookway elementary school.

So far, they’d run across two kids who hadn’t made it, but had saved six others along with a teacher.

Unfortunately, Mills had gone ahead alone on his own accord, and had ended up having the fiery ceiling collapse onto him, the weight crushing his thin body.

There had been no way to save him, and his death had been swift.

 

This time, it was a regular fire, and a doozy at that.

They were steadily managing it, getting it under control, but it wasn’t easy.

Not that they had expected anything else.

They never did.

Mid-way through dousing the roaring flames, Dawson had heard something faint.

Listening intently, she followed it, the muffled screaming.

It was coming from the inside of a secured locker.

With her axe, she easily busted the combination lock apart, swinging the door open to find a terrified eight year old.

He was coughing and sputtering, his eyes deeply bloodshot from the smoke, his skin badly damaged.

That he was alert, let alone alive, was a miracle.

Dawson seized the child, promptly taking him outside to safety.

In the daylight, she could see that his injuries were even worse than she had originally thought.

His skin was peeling, blistering, and melted.

His left side was the worst, and would require extensive work to attempt to repair.

If he even made it.

She placed him on the gurney, where Shay promptly began working on the now unconscious boy.

Before Dawson could say anything, she was called back into the fire, and she rushed back in.

 

After three and a half hours, the fire was out.

While three children hadn’t made it, with the boy that Dawson had pulled from the locker dying on the way to the hospital, the rest of the school’s populace had made it out alive with only a few of them bearing any sort of injury.

It could have been so much worse, but thankfully, the kids and teachers had been well-trained in fire safety and drills.

A bit tired and definitely in need of showers, the crew headed back to 51 to get cleaned up.

 

 

During the wait for a call back, Sam and Dean had a late lunch at a local eatery.

After soup and a sandwich each, Dean had gone up to the counter where there had been only a few slices of raspberry-peach pie left.

Naturally, they had all been sold by the time he had finished his lunch.

Looking disappointed, he returned to the table empty handed.

“All out?”  Sam asked needlessly.

Dean shot him a bitchface.

“We’ll pick some up somewhere else, okay?”  Sam told his brother.

It seemed like every single time Dean was about to finally get some pie, something happened.

It was kind of sad, really.

Dean shrugged.  “It’s not that important.”  He lied, as his phone rang.

A quick look at the display indicated that it was Herrmann.

“Yep?”  Dean asked, his phone etiquette lacking.

“Yeah, sorry to have made you wait, but you know how it is…”  Herrmann started.  “Anyways, I’m done for the day, so how about I meet you guys somewhere?”

“Sounds good to me, we’re at…  Uh, Sammy, where are we?”  Dean asked his brother, who thought for a moment before answering.  “Marley’s Deli & Grill.”

Dean nodded a ‘thanks’ to his brother, who looked bored.

“Okay, give me a half hour.”  Herrmann told him, as he tied his shoes in the changing area.

“Will do.”  Dean replied, and ended the call, letting Sam know what was up.

Sam looked annoyed.

All he wanted to do was lie in bed and read.

He was tired, and he really needed some time to just rest up.

“Look…  Maybe I shouldn’t’ve dragged you along with me.”  Dean began, noting just how miserable Sam was.  “Tell you what, why don’t you take Baby and head back.  I’ll find my own way, and you won’t have to worry about things here.”

Sam considered this for a moment, wanting to agree.

But, he’d said that he would help out, and besides, it would be nice to see Chris again.

After all, it had been years since he’d seen the guy last, and they’d known him pretty well as kids.

To the Winchesters, Christopher Herrmann was kind of like that estranged non-related uncle that some people have.

“No, I’m good.”  Sam replied, straightening up in his seat a bit.  “I just need another cup of coffee.”

Dean didn’t look convinced, but said nothing about it.

“Fine, but if you change your mind, the offer’s still on the table.”  Dean said, glancing out the window at a seagull flying through the air.

He let out a breath, tapping the fingernails of his left hand against the table restlessly.

Neither brother liked being idle for long, and just sitting there waiting was almost painful.

 

 

 

After what seemed like far longer than a mere half hour, Herrmann walked into the restaurant.

“Boys.”  He greeted them, hands in his jacket pocket as he smiled at them.

Sam moved over, and he sat down.

A waitress made her way over, and the newcomer ordered a bowl of clam chowder.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, before someone finally spoke.

“So, you’re a firefighter now?”  Dean said by way of making conversation, wondering what on earth had made him make that career decision.

Hunters generally stayed hunters until their dying day.

It wasn’t something that one just  _left_ ; hunting was much more than a way of life for most, it was a part of a person as much as any bit of their body.

That Herrmann had left all that behind and successfully moved on was beyond the Winchesters comprehension.

“Yeah.”  Herrmann said with a nod, grinning sheepishly.  “I know, I know, ‘Once a hunter, always a hunter’ and all that.  What can I say?  I fell in love and had to make a choice.  There was no contest, I had to move on with my life and settle down.”

Sam nodded sympathetically, while Dean shifted a little uncomfortably.

Dean had chosen hunting over practically everything else that had ever come up, and he knew that extremely well.

Herrmann’s words reminded him of that fact more than Dean would have liked.

The waitress returned with the bowl of hot chowder, and Herrmann thanked her.

“It wasn’t easy, but what in life is?”  He asked with a shrug, not regretting his choice for the most part.

“Was she worth it?”  Sam asked, having thought of leaving the trade himself from time to time.

All he’d ever wanted to be was a lawyer, but he’d let himself get roped into the family business.

Most days, he was okay with that, but every once in a while…

“Yeah, of course.”  Herrmann replied, frowning a bit as though he thought it to be a perfectly ridiculous question.

He took a spoonful of chowder, slurping it a bit.

“Now, let’s get down to business.”  He said seriously, his expression turning more serious. 

There weren’t too many people in the restaurant, and the ones that were currently dining would hardly be paying them any mind.

It’s amazing just what one can say in public without anyone paying any real attention to it.

Everything from wedding plans to murder has been hashed out in public without a single person paying a care.

“These fires…  I’m almost positive that it’s a ghost, but I just can’t figure why it’s going ‘round setting ‘em.  I mean, it’s weird.  It’s nothing like I’ve even heard of before.”  Herrmann began to explain, frowning as he took another spoon from his bowl.  “Locating it is going to be trouble enough, let alone finding any information on who it could be.  Putting this one to rest ain’t gonna be easy.”

Dean nodded.  “All you’ve got is the fires to go on, that’s it?”  He asked thoughtfully, scratching his ear.

Herrmann nodded.

“Pretty much.”  He answered.  “I’ve looked for anything that might be linked, and come up with bupkis.  There’s no pattern to follow, no hint of evidence, nothing.”

Sam tucked his hair behind his ears.

“Well, why don’t we start with a séance?”  He suggested, considering how well things had gone the past few times they’d tried summoning spirits in that manner.

Their options were fairly limited when it came to pinning the ghost down, and his was as good an idea as any.

Herrmann had considered this before, and felt it a good place to start.

Summoning the ghost might not solve their problems, but it could help quite a lot.

Communication with the spirit could prove incredibly useful, if it was done right.

“Just what I had in mind.”  Herrmann told them agreeably.  “We’ll have to scout out a good place for one, though.  I don’t have anywhere handy.”

He finished his chowder, setting his spoon inside the bowl.

“All right, let’s get going then.”  Dean said, getting up from the table.  “We’ll be waiting in the black Impala parked up the street.”

Herrmann nodded, and went to pay for his meal.

 

 

Since they had no idea at all of where to start looking for the spirit, seeing that the strange arson was occurring in all parts of the city, and who knows where else, Dean had suggested a cheap motel room to start trying the summoning.

A motel room wasn’t ideal, but it was somewhere to start, if nothing else.

It would be private, and since it was a smaller enclosed space, maintaining some sort of influence over the ghost just might prove possible.

Once the group had rented a cheap room in a rather squalid motel and had entered the suite, they set about making preparations.

The Winchesters had brought along the clean alter cloth that would be necessary, along with a small bowl filled with fresh herbs.

On the way to the motel, they’d stopped for an equal amount of white and black candles to alternate, as well as a pouch of cinnamon dust.

 

When everything was in order, Sam began the chant.

“Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circit.  Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita.  Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita.”  He intoned deeply, reciting the words over and over as he determinedly focused on reaching the spirit as they stood around the table, joining hands.

Just when it seemed that nothing was going to happen, they felt  _something_.

But, that was all.

 

Other than an odd fleeting sensation sweeping the room before vanishing as quickly as it had begun, nothing had occurred.

Sam sighed, thinking about trying again right away.

“You know, maybe this isn’t the best place for something like this…  Maybe we ought to try somewhere a little more prevalent to the situation.”  Herrmann suggested to the boys, and Dean agreed.

“It’s an idea.”  Dean replied, stretching his arms.  “One of the arson locations, I take it?”

“Exactly.”  Herrmann answered, getting to his feet.  “I mean, it was worth a try, but a motel room?  It might be a little bit too vague.”

Sam blew out the candles, before choosing to speak up.

“We got close.”  He said, sure that he could manage summoning this ghost if he was given another chance.  “Why not give it another shot?”

“Because, if this was gonna work here, then the ghost would have appeared the first time around.  Or, we would have gotten a heck of a lot more than a simple flutter.”  Herrmann said, pulling on his jacket and tossing the candles in the garbage, since they would need new ones for another séance.

Sam knew that it would be pointless to argue.

Both Herrmann and Dean were stubborn men, and he knew that his opinion would be of no use with both of them sharing an opposed viewpoint.

 “Fine.”  Sam muttered in defeat, and he placed the items in a grey duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

With that, they left the motel room, but not before Dean swiped the soap, towels, facecloths and incredibly low quality instant coffee.

 

 

With directions from Herrmann, Dean drove to the second last most recent of the sites.

The most recent would be impossible, as the school was likely still busy with activity from the media and investigators, along with being cordoned off.

It would be impossible to get in.

The house that had been fully destroyed internally was another matter.

The property was completely void, and there wasn’t much of anyone around the neighbourhood at all to witness them entering it.

Getting in unnoticed would be a snap.

The air quality wouldn’t be great, but even so, Herrmann felt sure that they’d be fine.

They could always cover their noses with their shirts if it came down to that.

 

They quickly set up the altar once more, including the  fresh candles, and Sam began chanting once more.

He chanted for close to ten minutes, when it had materialised.

The ghost appeared before them, in the middle of the altar, gazing down at them in deceptive peacefulness.

A young man’s spirit hovered above them, and the room turned chilly as its thin lips began to form a disturbing grin.

“What do you want with me?”  It demanded in a dark, gently threatening voice that dripped with detestation.

It turned its eyes onto Herrmann.

“Oh, it’s you…  I remember you from this afternoon.”  It said, staring into his eyes intensely as it lowered itself so that the top of the alter came to its abdomen, its pale feet touching the floor.

“Yeah?”  Herrmann asked, wanting to keep it talking.  “I can’t say that I’ve seen you before.”

The more it said, the better.

“Yeah.”  It replied simply, before becoming silently thoughtful.

“What’s your name?”  Dean piped up, watching the spirit closely.

It turned to glower at him.

“As if you care.”  It told him vehemently, sizing Dean up.  “Nobody does.  Why should they?”

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that.”  Dean replied, cocking his head slightly.  “We can help you, you know.”

“Ha, you called me here for your own purposes; it’s nothing to do with my well-being.”  It snarled bitterly, growing a bit in size.

Herrmann frowned, the ghost’s pitch dark emotions tangible in the air around them all, turning the air bitter.

“I know that you can’t be happy like this; moping around steeping in anger and regret, the negativity growing with each passing day.  I can’t imagine an existence like yours…  It must be like a nightmare.”  He said with a hint of sympathy.

Unlike many hunters, Herrmann had often been able to empathise with his victims, at least to some small extent.

That didn’t change what they’d done, or how evil they may have been.

But, it meant that there was still something of the original being left, something pure that was untouched by whatever they had become.

And, that was important.

“Why don’t you tell us your name.  Just your first name.”  He said kindly, trying to set the ghost a little more at ease.

It gazed past Herrmann, deep in contemplation.

It was true enough that each moment spent existing in such a form was abysmal.

The aggression, the fury and vexation, the fright and deep regret, all of the negativity which had burnt him out during his short life had followed him into death.

And, it flourished with each new day.

Only, he didn’t know why he felt these horrid feelings, only that it felt good to him to make others suffer as he did.

It felt amazing to watch as the panic and fear set into his victims, it made him forget his own tragic pain as he witnessed the life begin to dwindle horrifically from them as the luminosity from the flames flickered around them, lapping at their writhing bodies as if they were in Hell.

As more time went on, he was less and less himself.  He became more evil, more wretchedly disturbed, with each moment that passed by.

“Jason.”  The ghost uttered in hushed tones, unable to remember the last time anyone had ever used his name.

Herrmann nodded encouragingly.

“There we go.”  He said with a bit of a smile.  “Nice name, too.  Suits you.”

The ghost sneered.

“Don’t patronise me, asshole!”  It snapped, crossing its arms and glaring at him.

“So, Jason, what’s your story?”  Sam asked, as Dean fingered the pouch of salt in his jacket pocket unconsciously.

Jason chuckled lowly.

“As if that ever mattered.”  He said bitterly, shaking his head.  “It’s not as though I remember that much now, anyway.  It’s been so long…”

The trio exchanged knowing looks.

If Jason couldn’t remember his own life clearly, then it must have been decades since his death.

And, that meant that he was definitely packing some spiritual power that could prove to be very, very dangerous to be on the receiving end of.

It also meant that there was probably very little of Jason actually left to reason with.

The apparition conjured up a ball of fire, and began tossing it lightly into the air, and catching it as he stared at them taciturnly.

“Why shouldn’t I scorch you as I have so many others?”  He asked, jutting his bottom jaw forward menacingly, his nostrils flaring.

He began aiming the ball at Sam’s chest.

“Why would you want to?”  Sam asked a little nervously, stalling for time.

Jason blinked tiredly.

“Because it’s fun.  It’s the only thing I can enjoy anymore.”  He answered with a shrug, though even that kind of pleasure was beginning to decline, leaving him only with foul sentiments.

Dean stood up.

“So, that’s all you’ve got?  That’s all that’s any good for you now?”  He asked in his gruff voice, trying to take the ghost’s attention away from his not so little brother.

“Didn’t I just say that?”  Jason growled, flicking sparks onto Dean’s leather jacket.

“It doesn’t have to be that way; you don’t have to suffer like this.”  Herrmann stated, as an idea popped into Sam’s mind.

This ghost was not going to cooperate, and was becoming violent.

There was only one logical thing to try.

 

He began chanting a binding spell, not sure whether or not it would work, but willing to give it a shot.

After all, if things went sour, all they had to do was knock the bowl from the alter and the connection with Jason would be severed.

Sam had to put all of his energy into it; Jason was quite powerful, and now that he was angry, doubly so.

But, Sam managed it, and Jason was now under his control.

He ordered the ghost to listen solely to Dean and Herrmann, as well as himself, with no exceptions.

“Now, tell us your story; as much as you can remember.” Sam told it firmly, and while Jason didn’t look at all pleased about it, he began to tell the bits of his tale that he could recall.

“I had a dad, though he ran out on me when I was a kid.  My mom…  I don’t remember her, or anyone else in my family.  I lived in Willow Springs, in a little house.”  Jason started softly, as though it caused him great pain to think about it.  Perhaps it did.  “I remember being alone a lot.  What I remember most clearly is dying.  It was my own fault.”

The group listened closely to the boy, making mental notes of anything potentially useful.

“I always liked to play with my dad’s metal lighter, since I was a kid.  I always kept it with me…  I was a bit of a firebug when I was younger.  And, one night, I got a bit too drunk and was messing around with the lighter, and I ended up setting myself on fire.”

“And, that’s how you died.”  Dean finished for him, crossing his arms, thinking that it was a stupid way to die.

“Obviously.”  Jason told him in a huffy tone, his eyes flashing.  “But, the thing is, after I died, I could see the flames spread.  I watched as my entire house became engulfed with fire, though the firemen tried to stop it.  There’s nothing left of it now.”

It didn’t make sense that someone who had perished in such a way would be setting fires and killing others in the same way, not to any of them.

But, Jason was a ghost, and ghosts tend to lack empathy.

“So, why do you set fires?”  Sam asked, hoping for some semblance of reason in his answer, though he didn’t expect it.

Jason shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s fun.”  He said simply.  “The way that they squirm and shriek, the way I can see their skin melt, bubble and smoke; to watch them suffer as I did.  It’s amazingly satisfying…  I know it’s wrong, but hey, I’m dead.  What does right or wrong matter anymore?”

Herrmann shifted in his seat, a bit repulsed.

So far, nothing that Jason had said indicated any hint of a reason as to why he was still around, why he hadn’t moved on.

Unless it had to do with his father.

“What’s your old man’s full name?”  Dean asked Jason, who had to think about that.

It wasn’t something that came to mind very easily.

“...  Paul Satcher.”  Jason replied, frowning as he said it.

“And, you have the same last name, I take it.”  Dean said, taking his phone out and accessing the internet to find out what he could about the man.

Jason nodded solemnly, his face a bit more…  Human.

His manner had changed once the topic of his father had been brought up.

It seemed as though they were on the right track.

It took only a couple of minutes before Dean had found the information he’d been searching for.

“Do you know where he is now?”  Dean asked carefully, getting the feeling that he was getting straight to the core of the matter.

Jason scoffed.

“I don’t care to.”  He replied, squinting at Dean, who didn’t believe him.

“Yeah, sure.”  He said knowingly, his arms crossed in front of his chest.  “My old man was an asshole, too.  But, hey, family’s family.  Hell, even when he went missing and I was half-glad, I just had to try and track him down.”

Jason’s facial expression softened for just a moment.

“Now, I happen know where he is.”  Dean said, and Sam and Herrmann looked over to him.

“Good for you.”  Jason said tonelessly, not willing to do things the easy way.

Sure, he was bound to obey them, but he didn’t have to do it happily.

Anything that he could do to resist them or make things more difficult, that’s what Jason intended to do.

“We may as well head over.”  Herrmann said, taking a couple of steps and looking up at Jason expressively.

Dean licked his bottom lip, looking back at the phone’s display.

“It’s not too far, within walking distance.”  He said, moving towards the door.

Sam ordered Jason to follow, and they began walking.

 

 

Dean led them to a cemetery, to a grave within the sea of tombstones.

A grave where Paul Martin Satcher lay, having committed suicide in the summer of 1967.

Jason walked soundlessly up to it, observing the tombstone.

He looked over to the one on the left of his father’s, noting the death date.

Jason blinked, taking that in.

“What year is it?”  He asked in an unsure tone, as though he feared the answer.

“2015.”  Dean answered him, stepping up beside him.  “Time flies, huh?”

Jason remained silent, as he read the epitaph.

“He didn’t just up and leave us…  He killed himself.  I never knew that.”  Jason said, finally being able to let go of some of the anger and resentment towards his dad.

He had spent a lot of his life being upset at the fact that his own father had abandoned him, wondered what had been so wrong with him and his mother that his father would just up and leave so suddenly.

Having contemplated suicide in his life many times, he could sort of understand his father’s action to take his own life.

Jason began to fade slowly away, until there was nothing left of him at all.

Sam, Dean, and Herrmann watched as Jason finally moved on.

 

 

 

After Jason had disappeared, the trio headed back to the house to clean up after themselves, before grabbing some supper.

They’d spent hours working on finding and putting Jason to rest.

They had been fortunate that it had been so easy.

It could have taken much longer, and more lives could have been lost, but luckily, they had managed it in good time.

They’d been quicker in some cases, but still, they’d done a good job.

Sam’s stomach rumbled, and Herrmann checked the time.

“Well, look at that, it’s dinner time already.  How about we all head over to Molly’s for something to eat and a few beers?”  Herrmann offered, and Dean thought that sounded great.

 

 

It would be another couple of hours before Molly’s opened for the evening, so there was time to enjoy a leisurely meal of fish and chips and a couple of drinks before opening prep work began.

And, while Herrmann set about getting the till and everything else ready, the Winchesters spoke about how nice of a place Molly’s was.

It was comfortable, without being overly homey, and it definitely had a nice atmosphere to it.

It was just a great little hangout, and if they lived nearby, the boys would probably have made it their go-to bar.

“You know, you’re missing something here…”  Dean said, looking around at the place.

Herrmann frowned.  “Really?  And, what would that be?”  He inquired.

“A karaoke machine.”  Dean answered, nodding to himself.  “That’s exactly what you need, Chris.”

Herrmann shook his head.  “Nah, I don’t think so.”  He said, pouring Dean a shot of whiskey.  “It’s not really the kind of thing I’d want for Molly’s.” 

Dean downed the amber liquid after a nod of thanks.

“Your loss.”  Dean stated, as Dawson unlocked the front door and came in.

“Hey.”  She greeted Herrmann, who smiled and introduced them all.

Sam gave her a particular smile, which his brother picked up on instantly and pointed to his ring finger.

Sam looked at Dawson’s left hand to see a sparkling and very expensive engagement ring.

Sam’s face fell slightly, and Dawson looked a touch amused before she headed behind the bar.

Not too much longer afterward, the regulars from 51 made their way in, and before long, everybody was enjoying the evening.

By the end of the night, Sam and Dean didn’t want to go.

It had been great to spend some time with an old friend, and meet some people that they’d have liked to get to know better.

But, they knew that they couldn’t stay.

As much as they would have liked to try and lead a ‘normal’ life, that simply wasn’t meant for them.

They were hunters through and through, and unlike Christopher Herrmann, neither of them would ever be able to leave that part of themselves behind.

And so, when the bar closed, they said their goodbyes and left, telling Herrmann to stay in touch.

 

 

Six months later, Sam and Dean had found themselves in Chicago once more, this time on the tail of a particularly ruthless skinchanger.

After tracking it down and ganking it, they’d spent a few days just hanging out with Herrmann.

At the bar, they’d met Cruz’ cousin, Clara, and she and Dean had hit it off.

They’d ended up taking her with her when they left Chicago, and she became a valuable addition to their team.

Clara’s hunting skills had been off the charts, and she’d even been able to teach the boys a few tricks.

Dean and Clara had eventually married, and they currently split their time between taking turns hunting, and living in Chicago raising their kids in the duplex that they share with Sam.

 The Winchester children spend a lot of time with Dawson and Casey's little girl, Evelyn, along with the Herrmann bunch, and they all have wonderful adventures together.

 

And, they all lived very happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Another promp that I did, that includes another ghost. I'm not too sure how I feel about this one, guys... This isn't really the sort of thing that I tend to write (as anyone who follows my stories knows), but I hope that it will be enjoyed nonetheless.
> 
> Thank you to all of my lovely readers, you are amazing and I am so glad that someone is actually out there reading this stuff!


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